


Price Of Friendship

by Alterius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mild Language, Tumblr Prompt, one-sided promptis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alterius/pseuds/Alterius
Summary: Prompto was no prince and never would be, no matter how much he wished he was her husband, instead of Noctis.





	Price Of Friendship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lascivus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lascivus/gifts).



> A little thing I wrote at the behest of [Lascivus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lascivus), who requested the prompt: “Shouldn’t you be with him/her?” He didn't give a pairing request, so he has to suffer. Beta'd by him, as per usual. Dunno if I'll do anything else with this, but it was fun to write and a bit different from my norm. Rated T because of language and I'm cautious.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth and he hates it. What an ugly person he must be to look up at his best friend at his wedding and be _angry_ . It makes him _ill_ to stare up at them, to see the fake all-business smiles and think about the feelings he has for the now-queen of Lucis.

  
He tries to shut his eyes, to ignore the utterance of every vow that grates of his nerves. Prompto knows that it’s all _political bullshit_ , but it’s a short-lived reprieve when Gladio gently elbows in his ribs, forcing him to open his eyes and witness the entire thing, no matter how much he wishes now that he’d had to the insight to step down from his position in the days leading up to this.

This is his best friend and he must be the worst kind of bastard to have nothing but contempt for Noctis on this day, the childish part of himself wanting to renounce their friendship on the basis that Noctis was marrying the woman he _knew_ Prompto had long fostered feelings for.

He’d known for so long that Pryna had spent years ferrying letters back and forth between, much like the journal that Umbra carried between the two of them—and that was another thought that brought yet another stroke of bitterness.

Lady Lunafreya and Noct had shared something with far more permanence than the thin sheets of paper that they’d been limited to. He remembered a time when the distance between him and his best friend hadn’t been much thicker than that paper, but these days, he couldn’t be so sure.

The announcement had created a rift between them, awkward because of Prompto’s feelings and Noct’s lack of them. He doesn’t love her, not like he does, and it’s jealousy that drives home the idea that Noct deserves her even _less_ than he does.

And, _oh_ , the sealing kiss that marks the progression of the ceremony has his stomach lurching. Suddenly, he doesn’t care about what people say, what the press will pick up on, what kind of rumors will circulate in the tabloids.

He can’t wait to hear them spew lies at the three of them for being part of some fucked up love triangle that works to exclude him for being a _commoner_.

He’s not been there long, leaning onto the railing of the balcony that overlooks the city they all called home—that Luna would be calling home now, too. What was worse was how Prompto had always _known_ . Deep down, he’d _known_ that the day she called this city her home, it wouldn’t be because of him, because of a pleb.

Prompto was never meant to have her.

He wasn’t meant to have her and knowing that the high heels clicking against the tiled floors belong to her brings him no amount of comfort in a moment like this, when he’s warring with his love for her and his love for his best friend.

“Shouldn’t you be with him?” Prompto asks, only sparing a moment to cast a glance at her to prove to himself that it _was_ her. It’s gross, he knows, to stand here with a desire still to wrap her up in his arms and be the reason she wore that white dress.

But he was no Prince and never would be. Astrals knew he’d always be better suited as her _guard_ than her _husband_.

“We saw you leave,” she says slowly, though he doesn’t dare turn his head to catch sight of her. He doesn’t dare do more than dream up the look on her face and hope it’s not half as sad as she sounds. “We wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Yet Noctis was nowhere in sight and it was obvious why. He’d just married the woman that had plagued Prompto’s dreams for years. No longer could he even fantasize about something he’d never be able to have without feeling like he was some kind of home-wrecking monster.

“I’ll be okay,” he says, though the future tense of his words said nothing for today. Eventually, this would be an old wound, scarred over and long-healed, but today was not that day.

 _Gods_ , how he wished today was that day.

A hand touches his back, curling dainty fingers over his shoulder and it’s against his better judgment that he reaches up to lay his hand over hers. It’s despicable how jealous he is, but only made worse by how _desperate_ he is to have her and hold her that he’s willing to engage her in such simple intimacies.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, Your Majesty.”

It’s so small, so subtle that anyone not aware of their relationship would find little wrong with the sentence, save for his informal phrasing. But to the woman he’s no longer accustomed to his formalities, he can _feel_ how deep it strikes her by the way her grip falters.

The guilt will eat him alive before Noct can kill him for hurting her.

“To you, Prompto, I will always be Luna,” she says, her voice soft with a sadness rare to her, yet that seemed to be the only thing he heard from her the minute she stepped foot in Insomnia. He knows this is no easier for her; he knows that she’s struggling just as much as he is. So knowing this, he chances glancing back at her.

It’s a risk, looking back at blue eyes that he’s seen so many times in pictures and so few times outside of them and he hated how beautiful she looked. He hated the feeling of wanting to tell her as much, wanting to complicate things further.

Struggling to choke back all of his ugly feelings, to reign them in before he can give in to the demand that he mourn a love he never had, he offers her a sad smile.

“I dunno if I can do that.”

* * *

Cruel is the world that has put her between two wonderful men, that has given her a love she can’t easily ignore in favor of her duty as the new Queen of Lucis. Treacherous is the heart that yearns for what’s been forbidden, for _who_ the Astrals have locked away just out of her short reach.

Prompto pushes her away and part of her wishes he had physically done so, believes it might have hurt less if he had, that it might have been easier to bear than the ache in her chest that leaves her struggling to take her next breath.

It’s worse for him, she tells herself, trying to will her selfish emotions away because surely, she isn’t the one that deserves to be upset. It’s Prompto who’s forced to watch her marry Noctis, his best friend. It’s he who must wear a smile and pretend that staring up at the both of them isn’t tearing him apart.

But no matter how good Prompto is at hiding his feelings, Luna knows him too well to buy into such lies.

And Noctis knows better, as well.

“Hey,” Noctis greets her as she returns, but her eyes settle on the attendants of their wedding and refuse to meet Noct’s. Lunafreya Nox Fleuret is clinging desperately to the last shred of stability she has and _Gods_ , she knows that it’ll slip from her grasp the minute she finds his gaze.

The last thing she wants is to turn this “love triangle” into a public incident and put Prompto’s face on the front of every tabloid that wants to slander his name as much as her own.

But Noctis doesn’t need her to look at him, does he? Her silence alone signifies that Prompto’s response had been far from desirable and neither of them could blame him for it. Neither of them could blame him for the suffering that lived in his eyes, thrived in his heart.

He meant too much to the both of them for that.

“He's not taking it well,” he says and she knows it's not a question nor is she a stranger to the lack of surprise in his voice.

“How could he be?”

Luna was hard-pressed to say that either of them had even the slightest notion that he would. He was entitled to every pulse of anger, every aching moment that came with a marriage no easier for them than it was for him.

“You should be with him,” Noctis finally says, pulling her attention away from the party continuing to unfold in front of them. This time, she finds his eyes and her own well up with the same tears she had feared would surface.

“But I can’t be.”

“You should go to him,” he says, as if she hadn’t breathed out a single word, as if her worries will irrelevant.

“People will talk.”

“Let them.”

It’s such a simple solution—too simple, she wants to say, because Astrals know that people can be nasty no matter the circumstances. They’ll tear into the three of them at every opportunity until they’re satisfied with the damage done.

“Go,” Noct says, but this time, it’s not a simple request. It’s a command this time, spoken like the king that he now is as her heart flutters helplessly. Can Noctis truly be pushing for this? Does he truly mean to take as many blows in the name of their love as they do? “At least you two can be happy.”

His words are jarring and her eyes go wide when she hears them. She can come only to one conclusion when she sees his blue eyes, full to the brim with the same agonizing need that she knows. No matter how deep her desire goes, Noctis’s lies so much deeper because she knows as well as he that his will never come to fruition outside of his dreams.

“You love him,” she says, eyes wide as she watches a sad smile spread across his face.

“Just go, Luna,” he repeats, this time the words less a command and more a plea that doesn’t fail to reach her ears. She’s precious little time, far fewer words and even less opportunities to put things back together as best she can.

She has to find her beloved, has to rekindle things between them both.

If not for herself, then for Prompto and the prince that could not have him.


End file.
